


Spilled Milk

by Lokincest



Series: Milking [2]
Category: Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Lactation Kink, M/M, Male Lactation, Milking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-02-27 20:48:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2706242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokincest/pseuds/Lokincest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor and Loki are at a feast in another realm, and Loki is ready to burst. Luckily, Thor would rather drink milk than wine.<br/>(Works as a sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1517318">Little Cow</a>)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spilled Milk

Loki nearly wants to cry with frustration as the feast drags on.

His breasts had been feeling full since the start of the night, but now hours later they are heavy with milk, and tender to the point of soreness. It's for this reason, and his natural aversion to such festivities, that Loki stays seated at a rather deserted table. Every time he moves, he can feel the weight of them, cradled inside a makeshift bandeau underneath his shirt. The garment offers some support, and hides his curves, but it's hard to bind and disguise his breasts when they are full of milk.

What he needs is Thor, but an interlude seems impossible. His brother is surrounded by warriors and women, laughing and drinking with the former, and smiling all too fondly at the latter. Loki knows it's pointless jealousy – _he_ is the one Thor takes to bed, even if it must be done in secrecy – but to see the women on display makes his head rush with envy. He wishes he could wear such form-fitting garments. He knows Thor would go mad if he could see him in such obscene attire, his darling little breasts all but on public display. Loki isn't even sure if he would be able to walk after that, because Thor would surely fling him to the floor and fuck him until he couldn't move. The thought is so absurd it makes Loki snort with amusement, and then ache deeply with genuine want.

It takes all of his willpower not to bring his hands to his chest, seeking some relief. But he knows that if he touched them at all, they would leak more than they do already. The soft cotton he's lined into his bandeau is the only thing wicking away the seeping drops of milk, but already he is becoming soaked through. It's only a matter of time before he stains his shirt, and this hall is so heavy with wards that even illusions are worthless.

Loki is about to excuse himself from the hall when he's interrupted by someone, a lord of some sort in Vanaheimr, who immediately begins telling Loki his opinions on everything from high politics to the weather in Muspelheimr. Thor comes to save Loki ten minutes later. Perhaps he had noticed Loki's discomfort, or maybe he had noticed the dinner knife that Loki is gripping a little too tightly.

"Loki," Thor proclaims loudly, swaying somewhat from drink. He plants his hands heavily on the table, leaning forward to grin at Loki and the unwanted company. "You eat so slowly. Are you full?"

Loki stares at Thor, wondering if his brother is speaking of other things. A quick glance over Loki's form gives away the answer before Thor's eyes return to his, and the thunderer smiles.

"Bursting," Loki replies, holding Thor's gaze, and hoping that he can understand his need.

"You seem pale, brother," Thor says, with perfect concern. "Are you still ill?"

"Somewhat," Loki says, quiet and reluctant, as if he does not want to yet leave. He lets Thor run the rest of the well-practiced ruse. It's easier for someone like Thor, who would _never_ tell a lie, to be dishonest and get away with it.

"I should take you to your room," Thor says, in a somewhat stern tone that says 'it's for the best so don't argue'. Loki makes a point to sigh softly as if disappointed. "Forgive me," Thor says casually to the Vanir lord, not bothering to so much as properly introduce himself or make any other formality. "My little brother doesn't travel well and the All-Father bids me to look after him on such trips."

"Of course, my prince," the lord says, rising to make way while Thor comes around the table to fetch his brother.

Loki makes a show to roll his eyes while he slowly rises to his feet. "I'm fine," he says, but in truth he is sore. The bandeau is too tight for even his modest bust and his nipples feel raw and wet. He desperately needs to have Thor's mouth on his chest, soothing his tortured flesh, relieving him, _milking_ him.

"You said you were fine last time, in Utgard, and you remember what happened then," Thor says, carrying on the lie with far more ease than Loki at the moment. Loki is only grateful that a bigger lie isn't required, because he can hardly think straight. He's still standing next to the table, and Thor leans across him for a moment to grab Loki's half-finished wine, as if he wants it for himself, or to bring it with them. For an instant, Loki wants to lean into Thor and cling to him like some fainting maiden. Then Thor pulls himself back, and knocks his arm into Loki, spilling the wine across Loki's front.

"Thor!" Loki shouts, in genuine outrage, which earns them some attention they didn't need.

To his anger, Thor laughs, which causes a few other people around them to laugh as well.

"I am sorry, brother. It's only a bit of wine. Just as well we get back to our rooms, I suppose."

"You are an oaf," Loki grumbles, while Thor puts a heavy arm around him and leads him away. As they pass people, Loki isn't even sure which excuse they are going with – that Loki is feeling ill or that Thor is too drunk to continue. He is certainly acting like a drunken fool.

They make it all the way up to the next floor where their rooms are located before they are far away enough from the binding wards. Loki immediately ensconces them in a concealing spell and pulls away from Thor so he can round on him.

"Was that really necessary or are you truly such a clumsy ox?" Loki complains, wiping at his damp shirt and nearly groaning as his hands brush over his chest.

Thor catches Loki's wrists, pulling his hands away. "I'm sorry," Thor says, holding Loki's gaze even while Loki glares at him. "But not about the wine," he adds, dropping his gaze down to Loki's chest. "That was necessary."

"Why?" Loki asks, still resentful. "So you could make my clothes cling to me?"

"No," Thor says, letting go of Loki's wrists. "When you stood up, you started to leak through your shirt."

"Oh," Loki breathes, and feels himself heat up with shame.

"I wish I could see it again," Thor says, bringing his hands to cup Loki's breasts, trying to feel the weight of them, but they are held in place. "There were dark stains... here," he says, brushing his thumbs over Loki's nipples, and even through layers of cloth, Loki shivers. "You must be so full now, leaking for me. I'm sorry I neglected you for so long, little cow. Tell me what you need."

"I..." Loki hesitates, shuddering as Thor gently squeezes one of his breasts. "Milk me. Please. _Now_."

"So impatient," Thor grins, pressing Loki to the nearest wall and sinking to his knees. He pulls on Loki until the younger god slumps just enough so he can lean up and kiss Loki's chest. Thor sucks at the damp fabric for a few long seconds, but the traces of wine he tastes aren't satisfying in the slightest. Nothing tastes as sweet as his little cow's milk, and he won't wait any longer, won't leave Loki waiting any longer.

"Let me see," Thor demands, his voice rough with lust.

Loki only gasps, letting Thor pull apart his shirt. His wardrobe has taken a subtle change, now filled with button-up shirts or wraps, garments that allow Thor to access him quickly without needing to completely strip Loki bare. It was necessary for them to entertain fleeting encounters in the halls of Asgard, for Thor to run into Loki and part just enough to quickly suckle at his brother's teat, or sometimes just to see, and feel, leaving Loki still full and tormented. Loki wouldn't mind being stripped bare at the moment, but he likes Thor's quickness more. Within two seconds, his shirt is parted, and his wet bandeau is pulled down, underneath the swell of his breasts. Already Loki is panting with relief just from being freed of his constraints.

Somehow it's even dirtier this way, to still have his clothes on with just his little tits on display for Thor to see. They feel large, so large and swollen heavy with milk, but Loki has no illusions about how large they actually are. They would never compare to the bust of even a modest tavern wench, but Thor doesn't seem to mind about that. He loves to just see them some days, to hold them and lay his head on them, squeeze them fondly, or simply stare while Loki lounges on the bed.

Now Thor stares, admiring the secret curves of Loki's body; but only for an instant. Then his mouth is on Loki, his suckling hard one second and gentle the next, making Loki lightheaded. As Thor sucks, Loki feels the milk flow with a familiar tingling sensation and a peculiar relief and pleasure that he could never compare to anything else. When he first agreed to this, he thought that his enjoyment would come from Thor's enjoyment. He never imagined that it could feel like this, with each pull at his teat translating directly to his cock, making him hard and leaking more than just milk.

Thor pulls away with a wet noise, and then kisses a drop of milk away from Loki's nipple. "Does that feel better, little cow?"

"Not yet," Loki sighs, his chest heaving with the need for more attention. Thor gives it to him, moving to the other breast and latching on, while his hand goes to the breast he had just nursed from and kneads it gently. There is still milk there, and they both know it. Thor manages to coax a thin stream to trickle over his wrist while he sucks at the other, while Loki moans with abandon. Normally Thor hates to waste a drop, but this isn't a waste now; this is play. Thor could drink his fill from Loki nearly three times a day, and his relentless drive keeps Loki's milk production high. But for now the urgent soreness is relieved, fading into a persistent ache that matches the ache between Loki's thighs.

Loki wants to be mounted now and fucked hard, wants Thor to cup his swaying tits while they move together, and then knead and suckle them until they feel weightless. He wants Thor to take his cock in hand and stroke him firmly, root to tip, over and over again, until he has milked Loki dry there too. He wants to fall asleep, wrung dry and filled with Thor's cum, only to wake up full and heavy once again, leaking and sore and needing Thor's mouth endlessly. And he knows that they will do exactly this, and more.

Thor breaks away after the same length of time, and gives the second nipple the same parting kiss. He always treats each breast equally, and Loki loves it, knowing that everything Thor does will be echoed.

"Better now?" Thor asks, placing another kiss on Loki's sternum, staring up at his lovely brother.

"Only if you plan on fucking me soon," Loki answers, ragged with need.

"I suppose we can start there," Thor agrees, grinning as he rises to his feet, and lifts Loki into his arms.

By the end of the night, Loki is exhausted, and wet, and sucked dry.

In the morning, he is full.


End file.
